“If so, who is to find it after—” I stopped, for I did not like to say, after she was dead.
“I know what you would have said, Jack; who’s to find it after my death? That’s very true. I never thought of that, and I must will it away. I never thought of that, Jack, it’s very true, and I’m glad that you have mentioned it. But who dare I tell? who can I trust?—Can I trust you, Jack?—can I?—I ought, for it’s all for you, Jack, when I die.”
“Mother, whoever it may be for, you may, I hope, trust me.”
“Well, I think I can. I’ll tell you where it is, Jack, and that will prove that it is for you, for nobody else will know where to find it. But Jack, dear, dear Jack, don’t you rob me, as my son did; don’t rob me, and leave me penniless, as he did; promise me?”
“I never will, mother; you need not be afraid.”
“Yes; so you say, and so he said; he swore and he cried too, Jack, and then he took it all, and left his mother without a farthing.”
“Well, mother, then don’t tell me; I’d rather not know: you will only be uncomfortable, and so let the money go.”
“No, Jack, that won’t do either; I will tell you, for I can trust you. But first, Jack, go out and look behind the house, that there is no one listening at the window; for if any one should hear—go, look round carefully, and then come back.”
I did as she wished, and then Nanny bid me hold my head closer to her, while she whispered, “You must take the back out of the fireplace, and then pull out three bricks, and then put your hand into the hole, and you will find a small box; and there you will find a little money,—a very little, Jack, hardly worth having, but still it may be of some use; and it’s all yours when I die, Jack,—I give it to you.”
“Mother, I’m thankful for your kindness, but I cannot touch it if you do die without you leave it to me by your will.”